


yeah so far, it's alright

by Kishikiarin



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, References to Alcohol, References to Drugs, Suicidal Matty, Suicidal actions, fluff (sorta)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kishikiarin/pseuds/Kishikiarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>imma leave you with suspense</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah so far, it's alright

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a hurry so sorry if it's kinda crappy, I just sorta wanted to vent a little
> 
> please leave a comment or kudos if you liked it

After the bands inevitable breakdown point, George had generally found it easy to rebuild himself and it was more the case of checking up on Matty often to see how he was doing. He could get under the weather easily and for over the course of a week to half a year, he was unpredictable. He wouldn't open up for a while, that's how he always dealt with things, just bottled them up inside his chest until they threatened to tear his heart out entirely. Then he'd cry on the phone to George to apologise and tell him everything because that's the kind of man that Matty was. Though George didn't mind looking after Matty because after all, he always returned the favour on a Saturday night with a takeaway pizza and a cuddle on the couch. 

Just as things began to get better, money problems suddenly worsened for Matty, his mortgage and debts soon were too expensive and his albums weren't exactly doing much now that they'd broken up as a band. George offered to lend him some money to help pay for his apartment and Matty was tempted to oblige, but he knew after he'd used it up he'd be back to square one, and he really wasn't feeling like dragging George's finances down with his too. This just lead to Matty eventually moving in with George at his flat until he could find the money, which he wasn't complaining about. 

His love life wasn't doing so great either, a couple months later when he was feeling better, Gemma dumped him and he was finding it hard to regain his self-confidence, let alone get out of bed in the morning, so he'd lived indoors for a while, despite Georges best efforts at dragging him outside. He told George it was because of how she wanted to settle down, start a family. Matty wasn't ready for that, he wasn't even sure he ever would be. They had an argument and somewhere amidst all the shouting she had said he was immature and clumsy and for the accumulation of six whole weeks after, those words were replaying in Matty's head like a broken record. He tried to change, told Gemma he would settle down with her, but she just said she wanted him to be happy, so they broke up. He was a wreck after that, he never showered, hardly ever even brushed his teeth in the morning, all he did was lay in the spare room crying or attempting to overdose on pills, though he never succeeded, nevertheless it terrified George to find him, scraping vomit off of his clothes as he took them off to take a shower, forever buying new anti depressants like George was born yesterday.

It almost seems like a lost memory to George now, like Matty never really existed, no matter how much he really did. Matty meant everything to George, he was the lighter, and George was the gas that lit the cigarette, burning bright, beautiful but dangerous and without eachother they simply didn't work.

George had done his best to be there for Matty, and no matter how hard it was to keep him safe he had done all he could to make him feel better. Even if it meant he had to clean up around Matty's house when he wasn't feeling so good, or listening to him cry at 2 am because he thought of Gemma, and no matter how much he sometimes wanted to put the phone down and light a cigarette, he listened to whatever he had to say, because usually that was the only way he ever got better. When push came to shove he didn't mind really, it reminded him he was needed. 

George never thought anything of it, when Matty would tell him how much he appreciated him, and when he'd tell him that he'd never forget him, and make George say it back too. It was just a Matty and George thing, they'd shower eachother with compliments and heartfelt messages because they'd been friends for so long, there wasn't really anything weird about it. Maybe he should have thought about it more, about what that meant, because it might have changed things, but George didn't own a time machine and going back in time wasn't possible.

He really misses Matty nowadays. There's no singing throughout his flat, there's no sounds of chords being strummed anymore on Matty's old acoustic. There's no muttering to be heard when Matty couldn't figure out how to use the microwave or when he struggled to pull his jeans up in the morning. All he heard was painful silence, a reminder of how lonely he really was.

That's how it became for George, painful silence and the daily phone call from Adam and Ross to remind him to carry on, even when there never really was a point. Matty had gone. There was no one that made George feel truly happy anymore. Adam and Ross would tell him daily that "Matty is in a better place", or that it wasn't George's fault that he died. It never really helps, only makes him want to trade places with him even more than he already does. The tables had turned, less than two months ago he was doing the same for Matty, pushing him out of bed and dragging him to tesco, but now, even when the fridge is empty and he's all out of alcohol and weed leaving wasn't an option, it only opened him up to more fans that would just express their deep loss over Matty and end up crying or something, because obviously they loved him much more than George. Although George knew that wasn't possible, no one loved Matty more than him, no matter how discreet he made his affections. When fans walked up to him it only made him feel more alone, even when they're hugging him and telling him they love him. It just made him feel guilty.

It ached him more inside that he knew Matty would be able to drag him outside, that he could actually make him feel better. Matty had always told George that he was the one who would be able to save him from anything, but after all that's happened it made George feel forgotten, like a lost sock or something. Because he could have been able to _save_ him, if he'd have just stayed at home with Matty instead of meeting up with his girlfriend at a restaurant she recommended. 

\---

They had been half way through eating their pasta and George felt off, like something just snapped, not necessarily externally but internally, his hands felt suddenly distant and his stomach twisted, and it was at that moment sickness washed over him as he got a phone call from a frantic Ross, who he was sure was barely breathing properly.  
"I-I think something's wrong with Matty, he hasn't answered the phone all day and I knocked onto your flat and—"  
"What? Say that again slower I can barely hear you, mate" George's eyes widened, trying to process the information Ross was filling him in on.  
"Something's wrong with Matty, he hasn't answered my calls and I knocked on a few minutes ago but there was no reply, like there was no sound at all," Ross sounded panicked and his words were coming out in pained breaths like he was choking on air.  
"Fuck, right okay I'll be right over." George stood up from his meal and placed his napkin off of his lap onto the table, "Listen, I've gotta go, I think somethings wrong with Matty." George groaned, swigging down some more of his posh red wine that he would never drink but out of sheer thoughtfulness drunk it because it was what Aimee wanted. "Right okay, I guess I'll pay for the dessert we just ordered then?" Aimee sighed following suit with the wine and leaning her head on her hand. "What's up? I know this isn't fair and I've been telling you we'd go out for ages but—" George started apologising, Aimee interrupting halfway. "Well then stay." She muttered, George clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth because she didn't understand. "Matty hasn't been well the past few weeks you know that, I just need to check on him, we can go out another night I promise, and if he's okay I'll probably nip back down here anyway, okay?" George told Aimee, attracting a couple of eyes from the nearby table to the left of him. "Everything's always about Matty, when will it ever be about us? Do you not care?" Her voice got louder and she was beginning to make a scene, George's face heated up, people began to look at him and all he could do was fumble around in his brain for an answer.  
"Fuck, o-of course I do, please just calm down you have to understand" George stuttered, more eyes were on her now, calming his nerves down a little.  
"Excuse me but is everything okay?" The waiter was suddenly stood next to George, inquiring into what all the commotion was about.

"Yes, Yes everything is fine." George strained and pulled at his hair doing his best to compose himself but really he was internally screaming. Matty may well be doing something stupid and he couldn't stop him because he was stuck causing a scene in an Italian restaurant that served overcooked pasta with an angry waiter standing over him and an even angrier girlfriend. 

"Yes, everything is fine." Aimee repeated whilst shooting George a stern look as if to warn him not to leave.

He apologised to Aimee, putting his jacket on and checking the keys were in his pocket before placing down a hundred pounds he hoped would cover the bill, although he really didn't care. Aimee followed suit in a huff and grabbed her coat.  
"What are you doing?" George looked across at Aimee who seemed just as keen to leave. "You don't have to come with he's probably okay, I mean he's always scaring Ross, but Ross has to be the softest person on the planet" George joked though he was positively terrified.  
"Oh, okay. I'll just leave him to talk to you, I mean you guys are best friends I'll probabably just...Get in the way you know," George groaned, "c'mon, you know it's not like that!" Now wasn't the time. "Oh and could you just cancel the dessert order? That would be wonderful thank you." Aimee completely blanked him as she told the waiter, who began running into the kitchen to cancel their orders before they arrived unwanted.

Truthfully George knew that she knew he cared an awful lot for Matty, maybe too much for him. George was always talking about him, it really didn't surprise him that she thought he cared more for him than her.  
"What? Aimee, this really isn't the time to do this right now," Honestly he just wanted to leave, to rid himself of the stress of wearing a fancy suit and tie and having to pay for an overpriced spaghetti dish he could probably make himself for a third of how much he paid for it .

"When will it ever be the time? She argued, determined to get her point across.

"Wouldn't you care if your best friend could have potentially done something stupid, and you're being held back because of some stupid argument?" He fought back, agitated and getting more and more fed up "Okay, sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The waiter, luckily for George, butted in, putting his hand on George and Aimee's shoulders, ushering them out of the doors. 

"I was just about to, actually, thank you for the meal it was great." George snapped, shaking himself off in a hurry out into the wet autumn night, the rain dripping heavily down the bridge of his nose.

The noise of red heels clanking on the slippery pavement behind him woke him up to realise that he'd really messed up with Aimee, and if the way she was shouting his name followed by multiple swears meant anything, they weren't going to be on the best of terms for a long time. 

Eventually he heard her turn around, and he glanced back, tempted to walk that way with her but no doubt it wouldn't make it better anyways. For a moment their eyes met, but her's were only lit with fire, reminding him of what he had probably - most likely - lost. 

He just needed to get back and be relieved that Ross was overreacting and he was probably asleep on the couch or he'd just nipped out for a bottle of wine at the local Asda. Really, that was what would make him happy after such a long evening. 

The crisp outside air stung through the layers of fabric he was dressed in, ice cold rain waking him up to the fresh feel of the English weather in the dark. He glanced down for a moment, bearing himself on the railings outside of a small church, as a small layer of frost iced across the pavement he walked across caused him to slip, shining orange against the streetlights. Now was a really horrible time to sprain his ankle.

Once you got past the old looking buildings and the somewhat adequate looking scenery, London looked so dull in the late evening, when the cars whooshed by leaving a wet trail of rain, the familiar grey of the houses providing a never ending shade. Across from him a group of teenagers were occupied trying to sell some form of drug, though he wasn't interested, even after they shouted at him and told him that it would make him feel good. He had plenty at home and right now that was his least important priority. 

George picked up the pace, walking in a haste to get back to Matty in their flat, and to get away from the wet cling of rain drenched clothing, because the sky decided it was a good idea to lash it down for two whole days, and George's brain earlier also decided that was no reason for him to bring a decently warm jacket with him to the restaurant because "the weather would pick up" and he wanted to look alright for their date. Not that that mattered now. He was getting wet, whether he was wearing a trench coat or a thick fleece, there was no difference.

George soon turned up the familiar black door of his flat, catching his breath after he walked up the three flights of stairs because the lift was 'out of order'. 

Ross was no where to be seen, he probably went back home or something. so without the company of Ross by his side, he fumbled for his keys in his wet pocket, locking his fingers on silver, taking it out of his coat and turning it in the lock so it opened with a satisfying click. 

The flat was engulfed in darkness,A chilling atmosphere making George shiver, he could make out faint outlines of the walls through the darkness but even then the flat looked obscure and unnerving. 

"Matty, mate... Are you here?" George shouted out into the dark corridor, turning the lights on to reveal a chair pulled away from their coffee table and a burnt out cigarette lying in the ashtray, the burning orange tint was still slightly alight, so he couldn't have smoked it much long ago.  
"Hello... Matty?" George repeated, his heart rate flying through the roof. Matty was a light sleeper and any noise woke him up, so it was rare that Matty wouldn't call back to George when he was shouting his name, that was if he had fallen asleep.

The thing that made his hairs stand on edge wasn't the darkness or the strange smell, it was the silence. Their flat was never silent, no matter what time of day it was, and especially if Matty was in. There was always an ambience, maybe the tv playing quietly or guitar strings, but it was never silent.

Instinctively, George began searching the rooms one by one, checking the kitchen only to find a plate with a half eaten sandwich left on the side, bite marks dented into the soft part of the bread where Matty had been chewing on. Not unusual for Matty.

George checked the living room, the only clue to Matty even being in the room was the remote being placed on a crease in the couch, instead of where he left it on top of the fireplace and a blanket strewn on the couch where Matty was most likely laying. 

It was uncomfortable how comfortable the atmosphere was, there was nothing abnormal. Maybe Ross really was overreacting after all, although that wasn't unheard of, Ross usually had his reasons to be afraid.

Matty wouldn't enter George's room without a permission, so it was most likely that he wasn't in there, leaving his room as the only place left, besides the bathroom but he doubted that's where he would be considering he had his own bathroom next to his room anyways. 

George quietly knocked on Matty's door awaiting an answer but when he got none his heart rate sped up drastically and he frantically struggled to open the door, his hands all clammy and cold. George managed to break through the door (not literally), rushing in and desperately hoping for the best. 

What he saw he wasn't ready to see, his heart practically dropped out of his chest and onto the carpet when he looked at the image of Matty, curled up on the floor, a pile of vomit and an open bottle of pills lying next to him.

For a moment George was sure Matty let out a breath, maybe a word he wasn't sure, but that was more than enough for him to crash down to the ground next to Matty, his throat suddenly tight as he fought the overwhelming urge to cry. He couldn't fight it as he pulled Matty's frail body close to his, exasperatedly checking for a pulse and maybe a breath or two, but no matter how many times he checked he felt nothing. His body remained only limp, and his eyes remained shut no matter how much Matty shook his body, desperate for him to just open them and to smile at him like he did on Sunday mornings when George would make him coffee and wake him up to drink it. 

He still felt warm, but that was slowly drifting away as George clung to him, and all he could do was think of everything they'd done together, all the little things they regretted at the time, but now as he thought about it, they were heavenly. 

Like the time when they were around fifteen or sixteen and Matty had persuaded him, Ross and Adam to follow him down to a one of his friend's girlfriend's parties and they'd all gotten too drunk, and Matty ended up falling off of a curb and spraining his ankle, ending up being driven to hospital by Ross' mum, and for the rest of the summer holidays Ross had been strictly forbidden to ask for lifts for his friends anymore, following Matty puking in the backseat. 

Or the time when it was the last day of school, they were in year eleven, and would no longer have to go. The bell rang and everyone ran to leave, throwing their work books out onto the road, littering the streets covering it in white, getting soggy on the wet pavement. Ross, Adam, Matty and George devised the best idea, and instead of catching up with friends or watching a fight happen in the park, they snuck off behind the school, making sure no teachers were there to interfere, and began kicking the school bins down the road, one by one, dropping them off down at the park in hopes the school couldn't find them, and even if they did, there were no sanctions put in place for pupils who didn't go to school anymore. 

Unfortunately, they'd been caught, and were taken back into school for an hour detention, because apparently it wasn't the end of the school day until they left the school grounds and by sheer misfortune when they caught them they were walking back up, and couldn't outrun the headmaster because they'd just hauled what felt like half a ton bins down the road.

Those memories were all he had left of Matty, all those years taking him for granted, until the reality of his mental health actually kicked in and for the past few weeks George clung to him like an apple on a tree, but today the apple had fallen and this was all his fault because of it.

He longed for a smile, or even a frown. Something, just _something_ to point to him being alive. He longed for him to wake up, he yearned for him to pull closer on his back, but he wasn't greeted with anything, just silence and the stench of vomit. but he couldn't let him go, he couldn't.  
"No no no no no no, no... Matty! Wake up. Wake up. No no no no no, you can't leave me, you can't! Please, no!" George cried into Matty's limp chest, hugging him tight despite how cold and damp his suit was beginning to feel on his skin and how uncomforting it was to think of Matty as a _corpse_. 

George desperately grabbed at Matty's head, pulling it back to look at him awaiting for him to breach consciousness, slapping him hard in hopes he'd wake up, though his head only rolled onto his shoulder, lifeless and numb as if it was no longer connected to his neck, his eyes closed and his lips parted, a terrifying image. 

George didn't feel, which was the strangest thing. It was like his whole body just felt numb, like he couldn't feel any emotions, no matter how hard he tried. And he couldn't think for a second to even begin to piece together something smart to do in this situation. His body just gave up on him, forgetting how to function as if Matty winded up a key inside of George, and now that he was probably dead meant he couldn't work properly.

George stopped shaking for just a moment to think logically, the longer he left it crying on the floor, soaked in rain, vomit and his own tears, was cutting down the time Matty had before the paramedics could revive him, and so he carried Matty onto the bed and consoled himself for just a moment to reach out for his phone to dial 999, never for a moment taking his eyes off of Matty. As if, if he could somehow wish hard enough he would move and wake up, come around and lay in George's arms once more, wishing for his blood to pump through his veins for just long enough to spark his body with life and turn his flesh from sickly cold to heavenly warmth.

George felt truly as if his heart belonged with Matty, and now he was dead his had completely disowned his body, along with Georges, and there was no longer only one corpse in the room, George's heart felt as if it ceased to beat, and his breathing was fast and short as he felt his lungs collapse in on himself. He bit his nails harshly, drawing blood and swearing as he sucked on his thumb, not once along his eyes off of Matty's pale face.

Before he had time to think, the phone call had connected and a perky woman was on the other end of the line asking which service he wanted to call.  
"I-I need an ambulance, now, please I- it's urgent." George couldn't stop his tears, hiccuping his answer to her in hopes she'd understand.  
"Okay, stay calm, what is your emergency?" She asked, listening to the sounds of George's sobs from inside his flat where his best friend was lay unconscious or dead.  
"I-it's my friend, I- he's, I think he's dead." George sobbed in fear, grey washing over him as those words left his mouth. After telling them his address she said they were on their way over, and to not attempt to do anything with him whilst they were on their way. 

George's sobs never got any quieter, he stopped holding them in. He let them roll down his cheeks, stinging his eyes as he rubbed in an attempt to stop them from burning, but only making it worse. He didn't care at this point, all he cared about was Matty, and that he could make it through, because he had to, for George because he wasn't sure how he could live without him. 

George had sat himself next to Matty, moving him so his head was resting over his lap, playing with his curls and crying salty tears onto his scalp, all he could do was remember back to when they'd sit like this, and Matty would serenade songs to George as if he was the most important person in the world, it tortured him, messing with his mind because he would only have memories from now on, and that wasn't fair. It twisted his memorie to burn like wildfire in his veins, scorching his blood painfully.

George himself, felt as if his body had completely disconnected and died along with Matty, clinging onto him as he left to live some sort of afterlife he wasn't sure of, not able to let go for a second, in fear of losing him forever, which terrified him the most. 

The sound of the door unlocking and the numerous people shouting "ambulance", awoke George from his daydream, and as he sat next to Matty, George watched him be examined, feeling as if he were in his place, or at least mentally more than physically. He watched as they pumped hard on his chest, in an effort to revive him and bring him back alive, but as they pumped the heels of their hands down onto Matty's chest, it only made George feel worse, this was all his fault, if he hadn't have gotten into that argument and he had have just taken a taxi home, maybe just maybe Matty wouldn't be in this situation and he could have saved him.

And as the paramedics declared Matty dead in his apartment George slowly picked apart the last of his soul that remained inside of him, and he cried. He cried for the longest he'd ever cried, because Matty was never coming back, and it was all his fault,


End file.
